


Close Quarters

by Jael, pir8grl



Series: Voyages of The Canary [13]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:41:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29576961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jael/pseuds/Jael, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pir8grl/pseuds/pir8grl
Summary: An interlude between adventures…Leonard and Sara were delighted to be home.  Of course they were.  They’d missed the (relative) comforts of the ship, and they’d missed their friends.  They just wished that those friends could be just a little quieter...and perhaps not quite so...close.
Relationships: Sara Lance/Leonard Snart
Series: Voyages of The Canary [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/716667
Comments: 11
Kudos: 12





	Close Quarters

Leonard sighed in contentment as he stretched out on the bunk in his and Sara’s quarters. The featherbed was much easier on his joints than a hammock or straw tick and certainly more comfortable than the pallet of leaves and branches they’d had on the island. 

“Careful, or I might start to think you married me just for the upgrade in quarters,” Sara teased. 

He made a show of thinking it over, and Sara lobbed the pillow she’d just stuffed into a clean case at him. Len smirked and tucked the pillow under his head. 

“You know, it’s awfully comfy over here. You should join me.” 

Sara did consider it. Len’s cat-like sprawl was appealing, even after their extended island sojourn. They also happened to have the room to themselves for the moment, as the rest of the crew had several days’ worth of Michaela-spoiling to catch up with.

“Some of us have work to do,” Sara replied regretfully. 

“Captain! Dinner!” Sin called from the corridor. 

_**That**_ got Len moving. Sara grinned as she followed, anticipating their first taste of civilized food (well, more or less) in quite a few days. 

“What’s on the menu?” she asked as they arrived in the galley. 

“Fish stew!” Mick replied, plonking the big iron pot onto the middle of the table.

“Oh,” Len said flatly. Fish had figured rather prominently in the cuisine during their stay on the island. Oh, well. At least maybe there’d be some apples--

“And some of those fruits you brought back from the island,” Kendra added brightly. 

Mick noticed their distinct lack of enthusiasm. “Sorry, Cap’n. We was running low on some supplies even before the storm.” 

Sara sighed. “Well, at least there’s no lizard on the menu.” 

“What does lizard taste like?” Mick wanted to know. 

“Old shoes,” Len told him sourly. 

“Hey!” Sara cuffed him in the back of the head. 

“Chicken. I definitely meant to say it tastes just like chicken.” 

“Chicki!” Michaela shouted. 

“Fishy,” Sin told her firmly, holding out a spoonful. 

“I don’t suppose there’s any wine?” Len asked rather plaintively. 

Mick shrugged. “Got that jug in my cabin.” 

“That’s not wine. That’s the farthest thing from wine.”

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing we’re headed for Italy,” Sara remarked sagely. (She was just as happy to be eating something-- _ **anything**_ \--that someone else had cooked, thanks all the same.) 

***

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Sara said, getting ready to head up top to take the night watch. 

She bent and laid a gentle hand on the sleeping Michaela, then stepped over to the bunk. Leonard looked up from his book and wordlessly held out a hand. Sara took it and smiled down at him. 

“She’s getting so big,” Sara mused. “Big enough for a trundle bed. We should give the cradle to Mick and Amaya. I mean, it’s not like we need two onboard.” 

Len shook his head. “A pirate ship with babies.” 

“Privateer.” Sara chuckled softly. “Well, I can’t really see any of us living a traditional life, can you?”

“Hell, no. These kids, though...they’ll grow up seeing things we never dreamed of. They’ll have the best life we can give them.” 

“That’s the plan, and we’re sticking to it.” 

“Yes, ma’am!” Len replied. He tugged on her hand. 

Sara grinned and pulled back. “Mick didn’t get a decent night’s sleep the whole time we were away. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

His smile was a bit mischievous, and Sara kissed him quickly, then stepped back out of reach before she ended up in the bunk with him. Much as she would have enjoyed that, she had a duty to her first mate...her friend. Len understood that. 

Resigned to a night without Sara, Len settled back to his book, only to be distracted a few pages later by voices outside the door. 

“When we get to Italy, I’m going straight to a tavern,” Nate was saying. 

“You don’t hold your liquor all that well,” Jax reminded him. 

“There’s more than just liquor at a tavern, buddy.” 

“Like what?”

“Like people who aren’t _**men.”**_

“Uh-huh. Don’t let the captain hear you talking like that.” 

Len rather fervently wished that _**he**_ couldn’t hear them talking like that. Had they always been so loud? Their footsteps and voices faded as they moved along, and he settled back to his book. Michaela snuffled and squirmed a bit in her cradle. She really was getting a bit big for it, Len noted with a pang. She settled, and he tried to concentrate on his book. 

And then a door banged open somewhere along the corridor. “Don’t worry about it, love. I’ll get rid o’this and bring you some water,” Mick said, in what passed for a quiet tone...from him, anyway. “Yeah...and a washrag.” His heavy footfalls echoed up the steps. 

Len rearranged himself on the bunk. The truth was, he was having a hard time settling without Sara beside him. Sure they’d had plenty of alone time on the island, but this wasn’t about sex. (Well...not entirely. Although he couldn’t imagine the two of them ever _**not**_ taking pleasure in each other.) He just missed her presence. 

And had the ship always been this noisy? He thumped the pillow irritably and tried to focus on his book. And was promptly distracted by the sound of a tiny person squirming around in her cradle, followed by some sleepy babbling. He held his breath, hoping she’d subside back to sleep. (He _**really**_ should have known better.) 

Another door slammed somewhere. “Be right back,” he heard Mick call, followed by Amaya’s much quieter tones. “Tea and some hardtack, got it,” Mick boomed back.

Some giggles issued from the cradle as Michaela recognized her favorite uncle’s voice. “Unca?” 

“Ssshhhh,” Len replied soothingly. 

“Dada? Kee?”

“Hush.”

“Kee!” Michaela repeated rather insistently.

“The monkey’s gone to sleep, and so should you.” 

“Birbie!” 

“The birdie’s asleep, too.” 

“Dada! Dada pway!”

“Dada’s reading a story now. Go to sleep.”

“Me stowy!” she demanded. 

“I’ll tell you all the stories you want--in the morning.”

“Stowy!”

Len sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to be reading anymore tonight. “Sleep. See, Dada’s blowing out the lantern now. Sleep.” 

Michaela whined in a way that Len knew to be the prelude to full-voiced squalling. And then she lobbed her stuffed kitty out of the cradle. “MaaaaaMA!”

“Mama’s up top, steering the ship. She’ll be back in the morning. It’ll come much faster if you close your eyes and go to sleep.”

“Want Mama!”

***

Up top, Sara was reveling in the feel of being back at the helm of her ship. She adored the feel of the tiller in her hands and the breeze in her face. Mick deserved a night off after all his efforts to manage the ship and rescue them. She felt a tinge of guilt at leaving Len and Michaela for the night, but they’d be fine. Len was entirely capable of supervising their daughter for a few hours, and anyway, she was surely fast asleep by now. 

***

“Hush now,” Len said with a hint of desperation in his tone. 

Michaela continued to sob and thrash in her cradle. What if she cried herself sick? Or tipped herself out of the cradle? She was surprisingly strong. And the noise was bound to wake the others. 

Finally, Len couldn’t take it anymore, and he heaved himself out of the bunk. His foot landed on something that squished, and he recoiled slightly just as the ship crested a small swell. This time his foot came down on Soot’s tail, and she uttered an ear-piercing yowl, which only served to increase the baby’s wails. Biting back any number of words that were manifestly unsuitable for his daughter’s ears, Len regained his balance.

He swept a foot cautiously in front of him until he encountered the cradle’s rockers. At which point Michaela threw her weight to one side, and the rocker came down squarely on his toe. This time, he did let go with a stream of some of Mick’s finest. 

And Michaela finally stopped crying. And laughed, of all the damn things. Len heaved a sigh of relief (even though his toe was still throbbing.)

“Is that how you show respect for your poor ol’ Dada?” he murmured, scooping up Michaela in his arms. 

She chortled at him. 

“Fine. I know when I’m beat.”

He shuffled carefully back to the bunk and settled himself down. 

“Uh...you know you can’t repeat any of those words, right?”

Michaela hiccuped and curled up against his chest. 

“Riiiight. We just won’t mention this to your mother at all. Ever.”

***

Sara padded into the cabin as the sun was rising. Len was sound asleep in the bunk with the baby sprawled on his chest. Soot was curled up at his feet. It was an absolutely perfect moment that took her breath away. Her _**family.**_ Small, perhaps imperfect to some people’s eyes, but... _ **hers.**_

Sara stepped out of her shoes with a weary smile and draped her waistcoat and breeches over the desk chair. She quietly gathered up toys and bedding that Michaela had scattered out of her cradle and tossed them into the little packing crate. Then she picked up her daughter and kissed her gently before laying her down. 

She glanced up to see Len watching her with a very particular smile. He looked deliciously rumpled in nothing but yesterday’s linen shirt, and she may have added just a touch of extra sway to her hips as she crossed the cabin and climbed up to straddle him. 

Len’s hands landed on Sara’s bare thighs, then skimmed up under her shirt as she cupped his face in her hands and leaned down to kiss him. Two layers of thin linen were really entirely too much to be separating her skin from his. Len redoubled his efforts to shove the blasted garment out of the way--

“ ‘Morning, Captain!” Sin sang out from the corridor. “I’ve got your tea!”

Yup...they were definitely home.

_**To be continued...in Italy...** _


End file.
